private don't turn the lights on ϟ

Oct 14, 2023
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( ) Dry grasses crunch beneath the paws of a once-considerable beast among the moors. Now whittled down to a scrawny, looming figure, Hollowcreek is careful in each step. He is not the powerful fighter he was once renowned for in his former home. The lack of stock in rabbits made dsure of that, and ever failed hunt was another hungry sleepless night.

Hollowcreek wasn't here to hunt, however. ShadowClan's scent had a strange habit of popping in unexpectedly, and the tom had grown curious as to why. Of course it wasn't hard to guess that Granitepelt and his ill-born daughter enjoyed the thrill of heckling and harassing, terrorizing their former Clan. But with Granitepelt dead, his body not even worth returning for, it still plagued the return of a bicolored molly to DuskClan's reach.

The scent is far too old now for Hollowcreek to make sense of. Dull and muddled with numerous passing patrols, but he can envision through the trampled grass and stone the path that had been taken. And so, from the distance he's given to prevent trespassing the border, the tabby moved to investigate.
( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )